


Where Are You

by misha_collins_butt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depressed Dean, Fluff, M/M, Sad Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3571904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_collins_butt/pseuds/misha_collins_butt





	Where Are You

Dean throws his arm out and slices the machete through the vampire's neck.

"Fuckin' piece of shit," he mutters, then yanks his arm back and draws the knife away from the blood spurting from the now decapitated head of a brown haired, blue eyed man, about his height.

Dean stumbles back, rubs his eyes - hard - and looks back up at the dead vampire. He sees only a black haired woman, dark skin, squinted, dark brown eyes, Asian decent most likely.

Just a trick of the eye.

Dean shakes his head and looks down. He screws his eyes shut and grits his teeth. A tear slips from his left eye and he allows it to drift down his burning cheek.

Sam rushes around the corner, completely short of breath, and skids to a stop.

"Dean?"

Dean looks up, dragging his hand roughly across his cheek to be rid of the evidence, and grunts.

Sam just looks to his right, across the alley from where he and Dean are standing, and his face twists into a grimace. 

Dean nearly laughs. Twenty years of hunting and Sam still gags at the sight of a severed head.

"Come on," Dean sighs and claps his brother across the shoulder, walking back toward where they parked the Impala. "I'm tired, Sammy."

\----------

Dean closes the door to the bunker lightly, trying to seem nonchalant for Sam's sake.

He walks toward his bed room, shrugging of his jacket as he walks, and shoves his fingers through his mussed up hair.

Dean shuts the door to his room, still trying to stay quiet and chucks his leather jacket across the way, landing it perfectly on the back of the chair in the far left corner.

He falls heavily onto the bed, hunching over with his elbows resting on his knees, his wrists and neck limply hanging.

He heaves in a laboured breath and a sob rips through him so abruptly, he nearly falls off the bed and lands on his knees on the floor.

"Come on, Cas...where are you, man," he whispers, a few tears running down his cheeks.

Dean feels a gentle tingle, the faintest touch of...something...curling around his chest.

He ignores it, though, hanging his head and writing it off as the projection of his own powerful emotions.

\----------

Cas watches Dean walk into his room and throw his precious leather jacket toward a chair residing against the far left corner.

Dean has the look in his eyes like he wants to cry; wants to bawl his eyes out until there's nothing left of him.

The bed creaks as Dean sits on the left side and hangs his head loosely over his knees. 

Cas hears the soft sound of the beginning of a sob emanating from Dean's throat and then feels the bed shake violently as a sharp noise escapes through Dean's lips.

"Come on, Cas...where are you, man," Dean breathes defeatedly.

Castiel's heart breaks a little more and he allows his hand to hover just over the skin on the back of Dean's neck before he recoils and decides to try something else.

Cas unravels his wings from against his back and extends the right one across the bed. He curls it affectionately around Dean's chest and sighs, trying to keep his tears in.

It doesn't work. 

A sob rips through Castiel like a jet plane taking off. 

He sits with Dean, a wing wrapped protectively around the human, and bawls his eyes out.


End file.
